


Coffee with Cream

by KagayaDaydreams



Category: Free!
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Food Play, Frottage, M/M, Nipple Play, Whipped Cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 10:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15772260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagayaDaydreams/pseuds/KagayaDaydreams
Summary: “Didn’t know you liked whipped cream that much.”Hiyori winks at Ikuya, “I only like whipped cream on certain things. If you had some back at your apartment, it’d definitely help when we study.”Unfortunately, the flirtation is lost on Ikuya who replies with a passive, “Hm.”





	Coffee with Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AleishaDreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AleishaDreams/gifts).



> This is actually my first Free! fic, which is weird because I've been a fan since the beginning, haha.
> 
> It's been almost an entire year since I've written something sexy, so I'm a little rusty, but the prompt was SO worth it. This is semi-based off the headcanon I saw on twitter that said "Hiyori likes to tease Ikuya with words to the point of making Ikuya feel embarrassed and wanna cover his face, but Hiyori moves his arms away".
> 
> This is unbeta'd!

It all started with coffee and an offhand comment.

After morning practice ended, Hiyori and Ikuya had some time before their next class. Ikuya yawns as they exit the building, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He continues to do so as they make their way toward the university. At first Hiyori thinks it’s pretty cute. A sleepy Ikuya is always a sight to see,  though his lack of motor skills makes Hiyori worry. Unfortunately, they don’t have the luxury of napping after practice like most of their upperclassmen whose morning schedules are lighter.

Napping is one of many tools college students use to keep their sanity. Another-- which Ikuya needs at the moment-- is coffee.  Luckily, there’s a cafe on-campus they can use. It’s overpriced and overcrowded at all times of the day, but students show up (and leave) like clockwork.

Hiyori throws an arm around Ikuya’s shoulder and steers him to the right, “C’mon, you need coffee before you pass out.”

Ikuya frowns, but in his current state, it’s more of a pout, “I have coffee back at my place. I’d rather go there.”

“No time, we’d be late to class.”

Just as Hiyori predicted, the line snakes around the room with students and teachers alike in various states of dress. Most of them are at least  _somewhat_ ready for the day, with exceptions. Sandwiched between pressed shirts, ironed skirts, and pristine blouses are baggy sweatpants, comfortable graphic tees, and fluffy slippers. Movement is minimal, save for the overworked baristas weaving around each other with steaming coffee cups in hand.

The smell of coffee beans is so strong that Ikuya could probably get through the day on the fumes alone.

They stand in line, swiping idly on their phones. Ikuya has in his earphones, watching videos if only to keep his eyes open. By the time they get to the front of the line, Ikuya and Hiyori are sharing the earbuds, five minutes deep into a video about cat wine. Most of the cats prefer rubbing their faces on the bowl than actually  _drinking_ the catnip-laced liquid. Ikuya finds it incredibly all incredibly amusing, a small smile permanently stamped on his features. He doesn’t notice when Hiyori takes out the earbud to order coffee for the both of them.

“Two coffees--hot, not iced-- milk in one and just whipped cream in the other,” Hiyori recites from memory as the barista furiously scribbles it on her notepad. Her forehead is shiny with perspiration from all the commotion, she wipes it away with the back of one hand and punches their order in the register with the other.

“What size, sir?”

“Oh. Medium, please.” Hiyori swipes his card when the barista gestures for him to do so. She hands over the receipt and he thanks her-- both for the receipt and her hard work during the morning rush. The barista gives him an appreciative nod before moving on to the next customer.

Hiyori can feel Ikuya’s eyes boring a hole into the back of his head on the way to the pick up area. It’s no secret that Ikuya doesn’t like to burden people, even in miniscule ways. Hiyori doesn’t mind buying little things like snacks or drinks for Ikuya, especially when he’s too preoccupied to do it himself.  _They’re dating after all._ Most of the time it’s second nature, and he doesn’t realize until Ikuya accepts it with a troubled expression. Hell, their first  _kiss_ was a result of this predisposition.

.

_Hiyori paid for their dinner and Ikuya proceeded to spend the rest of the evening silently contemplating how to return the favor. Hiyori suggested a goodnight kiss, expecting Ikuya to turn him down immediately. Ikuya agreed with a fierce blush and quiet okay, which left Hiyori speechless._

_On the surface, a kiss on the cheek sounds pretty tame. An underpayment? Perhaps._

_Though the kiss itself wasn’t the reward. It was the moment leading up to it. Hiyori took his sweet time teasing Ikuya relentlessly about it, leaving him with a blush that wouldn’t fade. He asked Ikuya questions like which side did he want to be kissed on or if Ikuya wanted to kiss him instead. It was cute the way Ikuya hid behind his fringe when they got to the door of their dorm, blocking the entryway...waiting._

_Hiyori leaned over, lips poised to peck his cheek. Ikuya’s turned his head ever so slightly, hands trembling in anticipation. Before Ikuya could change his mind, Hiyori swipes Ikuya’s bangs up and out the way, then presses his lips against Ikuya’s forehead. It’s brief, but effective. Ikuya looked absolutely scandalized by the (relatively minor) betrayal._

_Hiyori tilts his head in feigned innocence as Ikuya stutters over his words, “Something wrong?”_

_Ikuya mumbles under his breath._

_“What was that?”_   _Hiyori teases once more._

_Fingers curl into Hiyori’s collar and Ikuya pulls him down to eye level. His scarlet eyes burn with exasperation that can’t be put into words, heart hammering in his chest, hands trembling. Hiyori doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to steal a kiss even though he’s in the perfect position to do so. Instead it’s Ikuya who initiates, kissing him once on the lips, once on the cheek._

_Hiyori is still standing awestruck as Ikuya brushes past him mumbling, “For dinner and dessert.”_

.

“Order Number 58! Tono!”

Hiyori squeezes his way toward the front, retrieving the hot drinks. His eyes gravitate to his, overflowing with whipped cream. The heat against his fingers is the only evidence that there’s even coffee in the cup. There’s  _no way_ a human could drink this and live to tell the tale. Hiyori wants to ask for another drink, but between the line (that’s now even  _longer_ than when they first came in) and the frenetic energy behind the counter, it would be more trouble than it’s worth.

Ikuya’s waiting outside of the shop. Big crowds in a small space make him feel claustrophobic, so he decided to sit on the vacant bench outside of the building. The green space isn’t too large, and it’s close enough to the coffee shop that students can access the WiFi without going inside. The university library, an old brick building, is right next to that, creating a trinity of places that college students can get work done...or catch up on sleep. Ikuya yawns and reclines, keeping his eyes closed.

“Ikuya~” Hiyori sings, “Wake up call. There’s twenty minutes until class and we have a ten minute walk.”

Reluctantly, Ikuya stands up and takes the warm cup from Hiyori, nodding in thanks. They start making their across the campus. Ikuya can’t help but eye the sugary monstrosity that Hiyori’s slowly making his way through. Did he ask for that much?

“That’s a lot for one person,” Ikuya says.

Hiyori nods. With each sip he can feel years of his life cease to exist, but  _damn_ the coffee is good. It would be perfect if not for the excess whipped cream, though at this point it’s a lost cause.

“There’s a lecture this afternoon. With this much sugar and caffeine, I’ll be able to focus for the rest of the day.”

He’s joking...mostly. While it’s true that’s he’s going to be wired for an extended period of time, Hiyori predicts that he’ll crash way before that class.

“Didn’t know you liked whipped cream that much.”

Hiyori winks at Ikuya, “I only like whipped cream on certain things. If you had some back at your apartment, it’d definitely help when we study.”

Unfortunately, the flirtation is lost on Ikuya who replies with a passive, “Hm.”

.

Two weeks later, the two swimmers are 3 hours deep into homework, their main focus a 10-page essay due at midnight. With only half an hour left before the deadline, their brains are fried. They’ve switched laptops, proofreading the other’s paper. Ikuya’s slumped over the short-legged rectangular table, idly clicking the ‘down’ key after every few paragraphs. All he wants to do is take a break. The words are starting to run together and he’s not sure how long he can keep this up. The light from the laptop reflect off of Hiyori’s frames so he can’t see his expression, but Ikuya can assume that Hiyori’s probably in the same state that he’s in. Ikuya sighs in relief when he gets to the blessed bibliography page. It’s a sure sign that he can officially tune out.

“Done. It’s ready to send.” Ikuya says with a yawn. Hiyori responds with an short hum, but doesn’t look up from the screen.

He stands and stretches his limbs until some of the soreness subsides. Unlike Hiyori, Ikuya’s changed into his pajamas, a comfortable oversized indigo sweatshirt and a pair of boxers. The coffeemaker next to the stove beeps twice, and he makes his way to the boiling pot. Ikuya grabs two mugs--the  _only_ two mugs--out of the cabinet above and sets them on the counter. He fills both mugs halfway, then retreats to his refrigerator to grab milk and a can of whipped cream. Ikuya got it for Hiyori as thanks for buying him coffee, but kept forgetting to use it.

Ikuya shakes it then sprays the perfect swirl into Hiyori’s cup, but the noise is unusual enough to snap Hiyori out of his homework trance.

“What was that?”

Ikuya pads across the room and sets the mug next to Hiyori with a small smile, “A thank you gift for the other week,” he retracts his hand, accidentally getting cream on some his fingers, “Oh. I’ll get a napk--”

“Wait, I’ll get it.” Hiyori offers, “Hold out your hand.”

Ikuya watches as Hiyori proceeds to lick at the tips of his index and middle finger, then slides them both into his mouth. Heat pools into Ikuya’s groin as Hiyori’s tongue slips in between the two digits, all without breaking eye contact. He pulls them out slowly with a very deliberate  _pop,_ and a kiss to his palm.

Hiyori smirks, “Thanks for the gift. I don’t  _really_ care for whipped cream, but it tastes  _amazing_ on you. ”

Ikuya’s bewildered by the statement, but also kinda turned on… he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want a distraction before moving on to the next assignment. A quick makeout would be enough to tide him over. It doesn’t require any brain power, and based on Hiyori’s actions, he probably wouldn’t be against it either. He’s  _technically_ the one who initiated it.

“Are you done proofreading?”

Hiyori raises an eyebrow, “Yeah, finished right before you brought the coffee.”

“Good.”

Ikuya shoves the coffee table out of the way in order to fully climb into Hiyori’s lap. He reaches for Hiyori’s hands and settles them around his hips, hoping that his boyfriend will take the hint. Hiyori definitely does. Warm hands sneak underneath his sweatshirt, kneading the soft skin there as he brings Ikuya closer to him. His hands move to his abdomen and upward, sliding the fabric of Ikuya’s sweatshirt along with it. Hiyori leans forward to kiss at Ikuya’s chest, leaving teasing bites in their wake. Ikuya realizes that they’re rapidly straying from makeout territory into something far more intense. His suspicions are further confirmed when Hiyori reaches toward his mug to swipe a fingertip full of whipped cream off the top.

_Oh._

Hiyori circles the area around Ikuya’s nipple with the cream covered finger, creating a small white target.

_Oh no._

Hiyori dips his head and sucks hard. Ikuya tips his head back, biting his lip to swallow any sound from coming out. It’s not an easy task, especially with Hiyori thumbing at his other nipple relentlessly. They’ve always been a weak point that Ikuya refuses to acknowledge. Hiyori hums, the vibrations adding another layer of eroticism that Ikuya’s unprepared for. He just barely stops the moan a second time, channeling his defiance into his fingers and tangling them into dark brown hair. The cooling cream is a strong contrast to the warm wetness mouthing at his chest.

After a few minutes of Hiyori treating him like an edible art canvas, Ikuya’s become impatient. He wants Hiyori’s mouth to go lower,  _much_ lower. Kissing isn’t going to cut it anymore, not with the very present erection straining against his boxers. Hiyori pulls back to look up at him. Ikuya’s lips are shiny and red, not from kissing, but from keeping himself quiet. Hiyori likes to tease Ikuya like this, rile him up until he’s blushing all the way down his shoulders, excite him until he asks for more. Ikuya’s actually pretty vocal when he gets in the mood. Though it’s a process to get him to that point.

Good thing Hiyori is a  _very_ patient man.

“Something wrong?” Hiyori asks cheekily.

Ikuya looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he brings Hiyori in for a kiss, the taste of vanilla seductively sweet on his tongue. Ikuya pauses to remove Hiyori’s glasses out of harm's way, then kisses him fiercely. Hiyori releases the bunched sweatshirt and it falls back into place. It brushes against Ikuya’s sensitive chest and he jolts at the contact, breaking the kiss.

Hiyori reaches between them to press a palm against the damp spot on the front of Ikuya’s boxers, humming in mild amusement, “Didn’t think a little food play would get you this wet.”

Ikuya groans and raises his hips, searching for more friction, “It’s your--ah, _fuck--_ fault.”

“I’ll take full responsibility...all you have to is ask.”

Ikuya doesn’t want to give Hiyori the satisfaction of asking him, especially when he’s being smug. Sure he wants to get off, but as long as Hiyori’s hand stays  _right there_ , Ikuya can handle it himself. He leans back, locking his legs around Hiyori and bracing his palms against the floor. Ikuya moves his hips in a slow grind, the fabric of his boxers hiking up his thighs, bunching around the wet stickiness. He lets out a heavy sigh as Hiyori lets him ride his palm, fingers stiff with restraint.

Two can play this game.

Hiyori won’t do anything unless Ikuya begs, but that’s a double edged sword. Ikuya  _knows_ that Hiyori loves to touch him, loves the way Ikuya says his name in between long, broken moans, loves the way Ikuya’s body arches and shudders just before an orgasm. Hiyori wants to be the sole cause of his pleasure. And more often than not, he  _is._

“Ikuya.” Hiyori says, his voice deep and laced with lust. He moves their positions so Ikuya’s back is pressed to the floor, his legs still wrapped around him, and Hiyori is mostly upright. His fingers dig into Ikuya’s hips as he grinds their clothed erections together, “Let me fuck you.”

 _Please,_ Ikuya wants to respond, but the words die on his lips. He won’t give in.

It just adds fuel to Hiyori’s growing hunger, he licks his lips, “I’ll make you feel so  _good_. I’ll kiss and suck the inside of your thighs, marking you where no one can see. Tease you open with my tongue until your cock is leaking all over your own fingers.”

They’re both still fully clothed, but Ikuya’s never felt so naked in his life. Hiyori’s words strip him of any barrier he thought he had, and flood his mind with unspoken fantasies he wouldn’t mind playing out. Ikuya’s sure that Hiyori would indulge every single one without hesitation. Ikuya’s overwhelmed and covers his face, pliant in Hiyori’s grip.

“Or I could finger you until you come untouched, curl and twist  _three_ fingers--”

Ikuya pants, “Make it four.”

Hiyori grins, his pupils blown wide, “ _Four_ fingers? Think you can handle it?”

Honestly, Ikuya can barely handle just talking about it, but he responds with a breathy, “I’ll practice.”

Something in Hiyori snaps and he leans over to pin Ikuya’s hands on either side of his head, removing the only place Ikuya had left to hide. His bangs splayed across his face, strands sticking to his forehead and cheeks. His eyes are glazed over with desire. Tears swim in the corner, threatening to spill at the slightest provocation. Hiyori takes it all in, mesmerized by every part of him.

“You’re so beautiful, Ikuya.” Hiyori says breathlessly. Ikuya instinctually squeezes his eyes shut and looks away. Hiyori releases one of Ikuya’s wrists so he can coax Ikuya to turn his head back to him, “Don’t. Look at me.”

Hiyori pins Ikuya’s wrists once more and begins to move again, rolling his hips deliberately. Ikuya doesn’t try to hold back his voice anymore, his need to come overriding both his pride and his stubbornness. They move in a heated rhythm, pleasure coursing back and forth as Hiyori presses down and Ikuya arches up to meet every thrust. Hiyori doesn’t take his eyes off Ikuya, watching his face turn redder the more they move against each other, listening to all the moans, gasps and broken syllables spilling from his lips.

“Hiyori,” Ikuya babbles, “I’m so close...so close. _Please, don’t stop._ ”

Hiyori kisses Ikuya as he comes, but doesn’t stop moving until Ikuya’s body relaxes under his. Ikuya’s eyes flutter shut, chest heaving as his senses come back to him. Hiyori pulls back just enough to watch for any signs of discomfort.

Without warning, Ikuya pries one of his wrists free and reaches for Hiyori’s waistband. It takes some effort considering Ikuya’s still feeling hazy, but he manages to get Hiyori’s cock out of the confines of his pants. Hiyori’s heavy and slippery around Ikuya’s slender fingers. If he wasn’t currently coming down from a high, he’d probably be sitting on it. The larger man hisses at the direct contact, nearly collapsing on top of Ikuya. He mouths at Ikuya’s neck as he strokes him hard and fast, forgetting their “no hickeys where people can see” rule. That familiar coil of pleasure builds when Ikuya twists his hand just right, encouraging Hiyori with a quiet  _come on, come on._ Hiyori bites down, hard. He spills onto Ikuya’s fingers with a soft grunt and falls forward.

They lie there until Hiyori switches their positions so Ikuya’s lying on top of his chest. He idly runs his fingers through Ikuya’s hair, enamored by the way the soft strands fall back into place. Ikuya hums contentedly. He’s very comfortable lying here, and if he wanted to, he could fall asleep right now…

Hiyori bolts upright, jostling Ikuya out of his comfortable position, “Oh shit, we still need to submit our papers!”

Ikuya's brief annoyance at being moved so abruptly gives way to ice cold panic. The two nearly knock each other over trying to scramble for their laptops. Ikuya’s limbs still aren’t at 100% functioning capacity, so he trips over his own two feet trying to get to the sink to wash his hands. Meanwhile Hiyori frantically moves the coffee table back into place then wakes up their laptops.

Ikuya returns, “What time is it?”

“ _Five minutes_ until midnight.”

With pure adrenaline and the combined power of every college student procrastinator that came before them, the two swimmers finally recieve a confirmation e-mail that their work has been successfully submitted. They bask in the sweet feeling of relief and exhaustion.

Ikuya closes his laptop and heads to the bathroom, “I need a shower.”

Hiyori perks up, “What a coincidence, so do I!”

Ikuya frowns, “I won’t be long, just wait here.”

Hiyori feigns offense, “And just let you waste water? Absolutely not.” He approaches Ikuya, links their arms, and leads him out of the room, “I’ll make sure every part of you in thoroughly cleaned.”

Ikuya laughs and calls him weird, but lets himself be led, flicking off the light in the main room. Hiyori’s laptop still illuminates part of the room, reflecting light off of two untouched mugs full of tepid coffee and a paltry mound of whipped cream.


End file.
